Change
by CrimeTime
Summary: John comes home and is confused by Sherlock's attempts to tell him something. One-shot.


John squeezed his eyes shut as the scene ran through his head for the umpteenth time. When he opened his eyes again, he stared over at the black leather chair across from him, that Sherlock had so often occupied. He swallowed and drew in a breath through his nose before he brought the scotch glass in his right hand up to his lips and took a sip of the liquid. He placed the glass back in its spot and closed his eyes as he let his head fall back, his mind reminiscing to what had transpired a day earlier.

_"What are you doing?" John asked as he came into the room, seeing Sherlock's eyes focused intensely on the wall in front of him. John didn't get a response and he raised a brow. "Stuck on a case?" At this Sherlock scoffed and finally looked over at him. "Well, what then?" John asked as he walked to the kitchen and started to prepare a cup of tea for himself._

_"I find that I am..." Sherlock's voice came from the living room. He sounded confused and a bit hesitant. "Not sure..." he cleared his throat and John frowned as he looked over at him with a cup in his hand. Sherlock scratched his neck, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by John. "I find that I am confused." _

_"Confused?" John said sounding slightly confused himself as he walked back to the living room._

_"By you." Sherlock continued, looking into John's eyes with a serious look on his face._

_"Me?" _

_"You confuse me." Sherlock spoke, blinking a few times afterwards before he frowned, stood up and started pacing. "I-" he started suddenly but then stopped himself just as soon, but he kept on walking backwards and forwards, running his hands through his hair at times. "I don't know what to think about you." he then said and stopped moving as he stared down at John who was looking up at him with raised brows and his hand mid-air, still holding onto his hot tea that hadn't been sipped at yet. _

_"Uh..." John replied not quite sure what to say or make of all this. He was about to take a seat but just as he moved, Sherlock staggered over to him and stopped only when there were a few mere inches separating them. He was staring down at John with intense eyes that didn't seem to blink, not once. _

_"I feel..." he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Stuff." _

_John raised his brows and waited for Sherlock to continue, despite feeling uncomfortable under his gaze and by the fact that they were standing in such close proximity._

_"Do you know what I mean?" Sherlock asked but then huffed to himself and shook his head with a frown on his face. "Of course you don't, you said you didn't."_

_"Wha-"_

_"You don't get it!" Sherlock half-yelled with his hands swinging once in the air. He sounded frustrated and turned around, his hands grabbing his head._

_"Sherlock, what are you talking about!?" John asked now frustrated as well. He didn't understand a thing Sherlock was saying. "I only just came back!" _

_Sherlock muttered something inaudible and turned his attention back to John, looking into his eyes. He didn't know what to say. He knew what he felt, but he couldn't put it into words, and even if he managed to do so, he was sure, that John wouldn't understand. John was just an average guy, with an average brain. He wouldn't get it. So Sherlock just groaned and grabbed his head again. "I'm going for a walk." he said and flashed past John before grabbing his coat and leaving the building in a hurry. _

_John frowned and heard the front door closing. He walked to the window and looked down at the street. Sherlock was grabbing his head again and he was walking fast down the street only to turn around and walk back toward the apartment. But he stopped and turned around once more. He took one step and the one more before he turned around again. He clenched his fists and finally turned away from the apartment for the last time before walking away in a quick pace, not looking back. _

_John watched the scene with a worried look on his face. He wanted to go after Sherlock, but also knew that it wouldn't do any good, so he just stayed in the flat and waited for Sherlock to return. _

__It was ten in the evening by now, a day had passed by and John -or anybody else for that matter- hadn't heard a single word from Sherlock and it worried John. He had never seen Sherlock like this. He had looked confused, lost and frustrated. He hadn't been able to express himself, which was definitely a first.

He was lost in his own thoughts for a while until he heard the front door opening, which made him immediately stand up. He hurried to the stairs and saw Sherlock there, standing in the doorway. John had expected him to look horrible, but he didn't. He looked completely normal. He stared into John's eyes for a second before he licked his dry lips and began walking up the stairs, ignoring a worried-looking Mrs Hudson in the doorway beside him. He walked past John and into their living room.

"Where have you been?"

"I had a thing." Sherlock replied, hearing the edge to John's voice. Sherlock knew he was angry. He took off his jacket before falling down and onto his chair.

John crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at the man in front of him. "You could've called, you know."

Sherlock frowned and looked up at him. "Why?"

John's mouth fell open and he huffed. "_Why_? Because I was worried, that's _WHY_!" he said, raising his voice on the last word.

Sherlock waved a non-caring hand in the air and crossed his legs.

"What was up with you?" John asked. He demanded to know why Sherlock had acted the way he had.

"Nothing." Sherlock replied dismissively as he stood up and walked toward his violin.

"Sherlock, you-" John started but his voice got drowned among the sound, the beautiful sound, of the violin.

John stared disbelievingly at him for a moment before he gave up and shook his head. He walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He was hungry and had barely eaten all day, being worried and trying to get in contact with Sherlock. There was hardly anything edible in the fridge though, but he continued to stare at the lameness for a second before deciding that he could go for some pizza.

"Do you want to go get some pizza?" he tried even though Sherlock was still playing. The playing abruptly –and surprisingly- stopped though and he turned around in a flash, staring at John with big and searching eyes. "Well, you know..." John said and cleared his throat. "If you don't have a... thing."

"I don't."

"I don't want to inter-"

"I'm not busy." Sherlock said and lay down his violin before looking down at John with raised brows, as to prove a point.

John smiled and nodded. "Very well." he replied and went to get his own jacket.

As the two walked down the street in silence, the only sound around them being a few cars and the evening, almost night, wind, John thought about Sherlock's words again. Sherlock had blamed _him, John, _not anybody else. John had confused him and it had made him frustrated and maybe even a bit angry.

John glanced at Sherlock. He wanted to ask again, about what had happened but he didn't. Sherlock obviously didn't want to talk about it, but he didn't want to _not_ talk to John either, so John kept his mouth shut and smiled a bit to himself when he saw how Sherlock's posture had quickly relaxed once they got outside. Sherlock soon turned his head though and John realised that he had probably been staring. Sherlock didn't comment but sent him a small smile before looking straight ahead again.

John sensed a change in him but he wasn't quite sure what it was. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know. With Sherlock, you could never be sure.


End file.
